from 4/13- wild weather and sit spot

I've been struggling to find the time for a sit spot. As I get outside more, and kayaking, and working significantly more than in the winter, I find less time to commune with nature. In fact, this is precisely when I need to get out to a sit spot more. I am still intimidated, having moved recently, in finding a new one, lest it be anything less than ideal. BUT HAVING A SIT SPOT THAT ISN'T IDEAL IS BETTER THAN HAVING NO SIT SPOT! I write that in capital letters to remind myself to ditch the ego and the excuses and to simply get outside!

So, the opportunity arose last weekend. It was cold in the morning and by 10:30am, it was SNOWING. Though it didn't stick we feared that it would persist and the cold would linger, making our outing with 8-year-olds somewhat un-enjoyable and challenging. So we cancelled the day's outing. By noon, when the outing was going to start, the weather was still brisk, but sunny and blue skies... wild spring weather!

As such, I had a day with time on my hands that I wasn't expecting. I used the time well in getting my natural history files arranged perfectly (after years of disorganization). But it was an all-day affair. I said, "At two o'clock I am going outside regardless of how much work I have to do and no matter what the weather is." At 2:20, I was out the door and it was sunny. My work was strewn about the apartment like a tornado had come through, but I left anyways.

I found my spot (only my second time out there) and spent a LONG ten minutes sitting, wondering when 30 minutes would finally arrive. Eventually I got lost in the amazing-ness around me. An American Robin (Turdus migratorius) flying nearby that showed me a thing or two. The Western Grey Squirrel (Sciurus griseus) that had leaves in its mouth and accidentally tipped me off to where it lives! The insects flying about, the Western Hemlock (Tsuga heterophylla) protecting its root base from invading colony of native Sword Fern (Polystichum Munitum). At 35 minutes I peered at my watch and yearned to stay longer.

So I crept out slowly. In fact, being near a busy trail, I made a goal that no one should know I was there. Creepy according to society, but fun and challenging to the naturalist. My ruminations are written below, but the experience put me in the body and mind of a salamander, with their lateral undulatory locomotion, crawling close to the ground. I took 10 minutes to get back to the trail and made sure no predators were around to nab me!

I made the following three conclusions too:
-I observed oblivious runners (with headphones inserted) and gregarious walkers (whose loud talking and gross conversation might have overshadowed a cougar stalking and eventually attacking them) who were outside but not engaging with the outside.

-It's one thing to be a trail runner; it's another thing to run on trails. It's one thing to do an activity that takes place outside; it's another thing to BE outside. And it is possible to do both... but we often forget about the engagement piece. Spending time outside is not BEING outside.

-Doing an activity outdoors is empty unless we also spend the time to appreciate that outdoor place. What use is running through a forest without spending at least two minutes listening to the beautiful spring call of a Pacific Wren (Troglodytes pacificus)?

First Hummingbird of the season!

Today, I saw my first hummingbird. Not sure about the species but as far as Bellingham goes, this is the first one I have seen this spring... and this must mean it is spring.

I was feeling the pussywillows that have been opening for two weeks now. I really like the fuzzy buds and the fuzzy shells that seemingly fall into my hand. Then I heard a buzz, I looked up, and lo and behold, a green hummingbird. Perhaps an Anna's. Most likely a Rufous. It usually is.

So many small but enjoyable occasions to celebrate at my sit spot. I shared the hummingbird experience that happened on my walk home from my sit spot. Also notable on the walk home was one moment I stopped and waited.  A mentor once mentioned how it is important to stop. Scan 360 degrees from the ground to the sky and see what you see. I did. It got very quiet. The Song Sparrow that had just let me watch it from 15 feet for a couple minutes also stopped its rustling in the underbrush. So did the Western Towhee.

I heard my friend the Woodpecker thumping away somewhere very close to me. Staring into the sun made it difficult, and I couldn't see from where the thunderous drumming was occurring. Then i saw a Bald Eagle high in the sky. Then another came and circled around the other as they kettled upwards and onwards in the mid-day thermals...

When we stand still, we can be witness to multi-layer living, beauty, and play. There is so much amazingness in the world. For one minute I forced myself to stop and stay put, BREAKING MY OWN HABITS, and pushed myself beyond my schedule (and hope to get home to type this up before going away for the weekend.)

From the ground to the shrubs to the trees to the sky. There is so much life and I am responsible to ensure that it goes on, in perpetuity. I have to dedicate part of my schedule to stewarding the world and to enjoying its rich bounty. Not "resources" to use, but as a way to reintegrate myself into the natural fabric that exists.

At my spot: The Pacific Wren got within THREE feet of me and I watched it eating on the moss on a stump. Then it fluttered off. I was so still for those thirty seconds. Then I explored the moss on which it had paused. And I used my hand-lens. There was a small pink arachnid crawling about the underside of the bryophyte. I didn't correctly identify the green plant as a moss or a liverwort, but in hindsight, it seemed very liverworty!

Considering we studied them yesterday in lichens and moss class, I should have known more. But those tiny worlds are hard! I have more work to do in studying them.

The some Stellar's Jays were calling like Robins... Boy, are they good with their voices!

Gotta love when the sun comes out in February. Wishing you a nice President's Day weekend and Happy Spring... It really IS coming soon.

California (January 31~February 4)

No real posting or sit spots, but highlights from this time include:

- Teaching about Sit Spots at a local conference called Storming the Sound, North.
- Having a short sit in La Conner as part of the workshop and considering the rain, Dark-eyed Juncos, and Pacific Wrens
- Hiking with Michelle in Torrey Pines State Beach and Natural Reserve. Getting up close to Red-tailed Hawks as they perches and during a fly-over.
- Seeing a Peregrine Falcon from the beach.
- Sandpipers
- Over 50 dolphins in various pods swimming north along the coast while we hiked the bluff. Great vista point.
- Lizards!
- Prickly-pear Cactus
- Sunshine and warm weather in winter!
- Coyotes yipping as dusk settled in Bommer Canyon. Despite the construction and development, they have not been displaced but rather stay healthy and active
- Coastal Sagebrush... mmmm!

Mosses

So, last week I took a class on Mosses and Bryophytes. I bought a hand-lens with a built-in light... it's really cool... and helpful! More on that class in another post.

Though I am a novice on mosses, I decided to look at them anyways while at my sit spot. I ended up looking at what I have determined to be Feather Moss (Hylocomium splendens) though I am definitely not sure! In the process of looking at the moss, I found four different lichens too (plural is lichens, not lichen).

We are going to discuss lichens in class on Thursday, but for now it was fun to look at them with a lens and see how extraordinarily different they are. Perhaps two of them were the same, one of them bigger and in a much later state of decomposition. Perhaps not.

That led to concentrated observations and I should probably draw them. But for now I will just let it be as a fun chance to look. I'll get in there with a pencil and paper another time... I have much more observing to do before I can draw them.

I was about to get up and my friend the Wren came back. it fluttered about as usual, about ten feet at the closest point and it seemed to be picking at sticks and logs. I wonder if it is eating and if so what it is eating. Bugs on the lichens? on the mosses?

I forgot to mention the tiny brown spider I saw too. While moss hunting, I saw this spider appear and then burrow itself into the leaf litter. I tried to flash my light on it (it was getting dark around 4:30 pm when I was out there!) in order to get some observations. It was not a brown recluse nor a black widow. that much is for certain. it had really pretty wavy lines, zebra-esque in two shades of brown on its thorax. Then it burrowed in again and I left it alone.

Almost didn't go outside today for my spot. I am so happy that I did. The process put me in a better mood and let me play for a little bit too.

Oh, and another living thing. A small mushroom had broken through a dead leaf and was beginning its growth upward. I found it really cool to see that the mushroom had decisively punctured through a leaf. I still don't like mushrooms, but they get cooler as I look at them. This one, under the hand-lens, was very fibery and stringy. A beige-ish conglomeration of woven threads that had somehow taken the shape of a mushroom.

On my walk out I came across more moss. I got whipped in the face by a devil's club branch but held fast to my space at the base of a huge big leaf maple. There, two, maybe three VERY distinct species were growing in and around each other.

I studied some gametophytes (female ones were the only ones I remembered!) and the sporophytes too. I forgot the name of all these terms and am referring to my notes in hindsight, but I  DID remember to look at the seta and the capsules on the sporophytes too! Those are distinguishing characteristics for mosses, especially comparatively. Some were purple, others more green.

And it was cool to compare the same species of moss- one of the sporophytes' capsules had the operculum attached and the other one didn't. (An operculum is the little cap on the end of the seta.) I got to observe an operculum and see how it is designed. And directly next to it, I saw a capsule without the operculum and thus I saw the peristome, which are wavy finger-like structures that release germinating spores into the world...

I think I am saying all of this right. Boy, I am thankful for this blog. I would have forgotten the subtle details of my sit spot today (and the associated transportation too) had I not a chance to report my observations. This is a good habit for me indeed. And I got to learn a bunch about mosses as I look over my notes from last week!

Dawn

I got up in the dark this morning. I wanted to get to my sit spot before the birds woke up. I figured that was one way I could avoid troubling them and also get a chance to hear their morning chorus.

I made it swiftly and not altogether too clumsily (unlike this phrase!) to my spot using a more established trail that I have created. I know that I shouldn't go to my spot the same way, but this one was the best approach because it was dark and I still don't know the terrain as well as I'd like.

Sitting there I heard lovely morning calls from the Pacific Wren. Boy, were they loud this morning! There were also the songs from another type of bird that I don't yet know. and I even heard the Northern Flicker say a couple of words as well.

It was nice to get outside in the dark. It made dawn lovely and I established a connection with the natural world from the first moments of my day. How lovely!

Sit Spot reflection

This morning was interesting. I left the house and it was warmer than yesterday. So I wore a lighter array of clothing: wool sweater, two thin synthetic tops, long underwear and wool pants. Not my heavy jacket and not heavy gloves either.

Got to the spot and found that the birds were super loud. I spent the first ten minutes figuring out that they were so loud because of ME. It was my directional and focused intent that must have scared them into alarm for a lot longer than the norm… which is me sulking into the space, slowly and in a cumbersome fashion. Not so much like a predator.

After ten minutes it was nearly silent in the forest… the chorus of alarm from Pacific Wrens, Black-capped Chickadees, and even a lone Northern Flicker petered out. It was back to calm.

I am curious how long my disturbances last in the forest. Do walkers and mountain bikers get the same reactions from the birds? What about if there is a dog with them? Does my style of walking make a difference?

A Pacific Wren visited AGAIN today. I was dead still. It hopped within FIVE feet of me, which was awesome. It's almost like it didn't see me. And then it circumnavigated me as it hopped about under the downed sword ferns and through the barrage of grounded sticks which must have fallen from the western red cedar.

It must have noticed me there because it kept a five foot radius, for about 225 degrees around me. I kept so still. Used my Owl Eyes to listen and watch subtle movements. Then it disappeared- out of sight and out of sound range. I waited a couple of moments and then shifted my body around to a more comfortable position. BAD IDEA. It was there watching me and it started to alarm! I felt like I was being chided for my impatience. Just another reminder that I have a lot of work to do in practicing my stillness in the forest.

Back to minding my own business after I was berated by the smallest bird I've ever met. Suddenly I heard a light whisper of wings and then raindrops rushed onto my head as the cedar branch not five feet above my head delicately jiggled. I couldn't help myself. I knew it was a bird, but I so wanted to know if it was the Wren back for more observations of me.

Turned out to be a Chickadee and it immediately saw my head look up at it. Let's face it: No one likes to be stared at; not even birds. It too began to alarm and it flitted to another branch, dumping water on my head again! It was double punishment on me by these two little residents of the forest who want me to be more patient. My curiosity is a courageous trait and one for which I am super grateful. But boy, do I have some work to do on the patience front...

I wasn't sure about the loud "laughing sound" but I had the hint it was a Flicker. So, I left my spot and went to look for the sound- after all it had been making noise for nearly 20 minutes. But fate would have it that the open space where I had tracked the original sound was now silent. So I turned and headed for home.

Then I saw a black plastic bag on the ground. If there is one thing that irritates me it is dog owners who bag up their dog's feces and LEAVE IT THERE?! Why bother? It's almost worse, in my opinion to discard a plastic bag into the natural world instead of letting that stuff decompose. But Bellingham's dogs have more rights than its citizens (also SUPER irritating) and mountain bikers and hikers have an easy time looking the other way. Self-righteously, I picked up the bag and put it right into the middle of a thin wooden bridge that the mountain-bikers use to cross a small creek there.

Excuse the diatribe. My favorite part of the day was when I reached for the black bag and found scat ON TOP of the bag! It was delivered by, none other than, my friend Coyote. Stringy feces with hair and small bone fragments. ON TOP of another canine's poop. That's one way to mark the territory. Coyote makes me laugh because he is a dog indeed, but a clever one who is both pragmatic and artistic at the same time. What a GREAT place to leave a turd.. on top of an out-of-place plastic bag with a turd inside it!

It was such a great morning to be outdoors. Thirty-eight degrees and moist in the air. Not quite raining but thinking about it. I am pretty excited about that area. Every day I understand more and more about it.

First official post

This is my first official post on this blog. Though I have written other entries, I will start with this one.

As part of my nature connection work, it is important that I visit my (secret) sit spot everyday. Rain or shine. Evening and dawn and daytime. Though I don't expect to be able to do so every day, I will certainly try.

The other piece is to report my findings from the day. If I don't share my story then I may forgot what indeed I learned, observed or experienced. If others don't ask to hear my story, then any subtle nature connections that I may have developed will probably get lost. Please ask about my sit spot! It would mean a lot to me.

Notes from this morning:

I got up at dawn and made it to my spot, entering the thicket in one of my usual places. The birds were singing... I am not sure what birds they were but it was definitely their morning chorus. I am certain that I heard the Pacific Wren (Troglodytes pacificus) because it has over 100 different notes in it's song, apparently more than 36 notes per second! Incredible sound for such a tiny little brown bird!

Then one actually alarmed called as it got closer and closer to me. I turned to see it chirping in alarm and then it quickly flew off. And then I got up and left my sheltered spot to enjoy some morning drizzle on the walk home.